


Waves

by HiMiTSu



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, spoilers for the finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4870525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiMiTSu/pseuds/HiMiTSu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The waves crash against the stone shore with a deafening roar, but he hears no sound. The world around in muffled, like a picture out of focus – just a background to his personal tragedy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waves

**Author's Note:**

> I tried really hard not to think what would happen if only one of them survives. Clearly, I failed.

Hannibal holds him close, clutching at Will’s forearms with unexpected desperation. It washes over him, wave after wave just like the dark sea at his feet, and he is lost. It’s been a long time since he experienced such hopelessness; it’s not a feeling – it’s an absence of one, a dark hole consuming what is left of him. This darkness is foreign, so different from his usual friend – a lust for murder, for beauty of it. This…this is enveloping, about to devour him whole and there is no way to fight back. He neither has strength, nor any will to try…

He shivers, an automatic reaction to the cold. Icy wind is blowing from the sea and his wet clothes cling to his skin. The waves crash against the stone shore with a deafening roar, but Hannibal hears no sound. The world around in muffled, like a picture out of focus – just a background to his personal tragedy.

Will is just as cold and unresponsive in his arms, dark curls plastered to his forehead, which is for once not marred with concern. There is no color to his face, no color left on him at all, even the crimson of blood washed away by the dark water. White shirt see-through but only revealing skin just as white underneath. His lips are turning blue, the momentary warmth from Hannibal’s lips nothing compared to the chill in the air. Hannibal could no longer warm him up just as he could not breathe the life back into him.

Will looks peaceful. Hannibal cradles his face in his palm, ever so gentle, as his mind begs for an illusion. He looks like he’s just asleep. This thought – a product of many romantic lines in literary classics, is fake and he realizes this instantly. He doesn’t even know how Will would look in his sleep, not haunted by a fever dream or unconscious from pain, a simple peaceful sleep Hannibal had never had a chance to observe. Never will have a chance. It’s a small thing, nothing compared to what they already had, those treasured memories safely stored away, but it stings. It hurts.

He presses his forehead to Will’s, both of them so cold there isn’t much difference, and pretends. Just for a moment scrunches his eyes shut and wills himself to believe.

It’s no use. Hannibal is no romantic, his fantasies do not come to mind at will, his imagination is sharp and wide but it is not ruled by such wild desires. He can’t. Will’s chest does not rise where they are pressed together, there is no breath on his lips. Hannibal wants to steal a kiss but it feels like a sacrilege. This is something he wanted Will to offer him, now though there is no way to ask for a permission and without it Hannibal can not step over this line. This bridge will be left uncrossed for them.

Instead Hannibal presses his lips to the crown of his head and to his ice cold temple right over the scar.

Everything is cold and wet, and sharp stones are digging into his thighs from sitting on the shore for too long, and the darkness of the night closes in on him. Hannibal doesn’t move though. He stays and clutches Will’s lifeless body in his arms, insanely hoping for a miracle but knowing it would never happen. So he sits and holds his love, intent to never let go.


End file.
